


love is (color)blind

by Alienu



Series: Goggles Are The Window To The Soul [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BoyxBoy, Fantasy AU, First Meetings, Fluff, Gay, George is a runaway prince, M/M, Mage!Sapnap, Prince!George, Romance, Swearing, Swordsman!Dream, Violence, dreamnotfound, i’m so sorry this is rushed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienu/pseuds/Alienu
Summary: George didn’t know traveling would be so fun.Or, maybe it was the fact that he was stuck with a swordsman that had a talent for way too many things and a mage that knew far too many things.Risking his life was never something that he enjoyed, but somehow his two friends made it fun.Fantasy AU
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Goggles Are The Window To The Soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890928
Comments: 24
Kudos: 654
Collections: MCYT





	1. running

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is the prologue to labors of love :) i’m probably gonna continue this because i am now deeply invested in this AU that i have created in my mind

The castle is cold and silent.

It’s nothing new to George. Ever since the death of his parents the palace had morphed from a lively, cheer-filled household to a special kind of quiet. A _bad_ type of quiet. This silence was cold and suffocating, tension and grief filling the air as the nobles mourned the loss of the king and queen. 

Don’t get him wrong—they weren’t mourning because the previous rulers had been beloved and wise, in fact they were so grief-stricken because now that George’s older brother was taking the throne, they would no longer have the king’s favor.

His parents hadn’t been good monarchs. It was an undisputed fact that everyone—even George and his brother—knew. The pair had favored corrupt men who didn’t deserve it and listened to their advice, completely unaware that they only wanted power and nothing else. They spent their days feasting on some of the best dishes in the kingdom, partying, laughing, and ignoring the needs of the people. 

It was a relief to everyone one when they died at sea. Even to George and his older brother, which might seem cruel if not for the fact that they barely knew their own parents. As the two princes, they had been raised by hired caretakers and tutors. Despite being blood related, they were all like strangers to each other.

Which is why it had been such a relief when George’s brother took the throne. Unlike their father and mother, he was smart and resourceful. He knew which nobles could be trusted and he rewarded them, while simultaneously showing enough favor to the others to keep them in support of the royal family. 

George had been happy at first. Under his brother’s rule the kingdom thrived and the people were content. Trade flourished, and as result so did the economy. Despite the rather icy way his brother tended to treat him, the brunette prince was happy with the way his country was prospering.

It was not until now that he realized just how much he hated being a prince.

Standing in the center of the large throne room, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides as he protested against the words that spewed from his sibling’s cool, smirking lips.

“I don’t want to be married!” He says loudly—and even though he knew that he probably sounds like a whiny toddler, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. What mattered now was that his brother was trying to ship him off to some faraway kingdom to marry a nobody princess who offered an alliance that would barely be of any use to them. It was painfully obvious that it was just an effort to get rid of another potential contender for the throne—since when did his brother hate him that much? The idea that there was something—or maybe even multiple things he had done to cause such disdain to fill the calculating brown eyes of the king—saddened him.

“It’s for the good of Cerus, George.” He says in a sickeningly sweet tone, clearly reveling in the way the younger sibling’s jaws clenched in barely restrained fury. He knows there is no use in arguing—after all the king’s word was final—but does so anyway. 

“This alliance offers next to nothing for Cerus!” He exclaims vehemently, “We both know this, and yet you send me away as if I would betray the only family I have left for some overrated, pathetic throne that gives happiness only to materialistic fools.”

He freezes as the crowned man’s eyes narrow into slits of fury. The brunette gulps, hating the way his throat clenches in fear as his body stiffens in preparation. Oops.

Much to his fortune, his brother simply waves to one of the guards. His tone is cool and polite, any hint of anger within it tightly constrained. “Take the prince back to his room,” he orders, “He is not in the right mind right now.”

George’s shoulders droop in defeat. Twenty years of life and still he was treated like a child. A guard comes up, holding a sharpened spear in his armored hands as he motioned for the prince to step forward. He does so obediently—he had always been cooperative—even though every inch of him was telling him to scream and shout.

The king sized bed is luxurious, covered top to bottom in fluffy pillows and some of the softest blankets in the kingdom. Despite its large size, it barely made up a quarter of the room. The rest of the space was filled with things like books and desks. A door at the side leads to his bathroom. George flops onto the expensive bed with a frustrated sigh.

Arranged marriages were not a new concept to George—being a prince and all that—but he had at least hoped for one that would benefit the kingdom in some way. The princess that his brother was trying to marry him off to offered an alliance to a small kingdom, one that barely had enough troops to defend their own borders much less offer support to them.

He knew that trying to negotiate would only serve to make the king more determined to send him away. Simply agreeing to the marriage was also an option—obviously the most undesirable one. The boy tugs at his dark hair in frustration as plans and options swirled through his head.

He could run away. 

The thought scared him. Being alone out in a world he had only been prepared to rule—and not live in—was intimidating. He was doubtful of his ability to even survive in such a place, even though deep down, the raw desire to adventure and explore the vast lands coursed through his blood. 

He had to do this now. It was the only option. 

George packs his bag, a medium sized satchel that he had used to carry his books around when he had to walk to one end of the castle to the other for his tutoring sessions. First, he fills it with the most casual clothes he owned. This consisted of a simple tunic and trousers. He packs his only cape, made of silk white cloth held together by gold threads. It was bound to draw attention to him, but it was the only thing he had. Next, he goes to his small desk. Inside the first drawer is a medium sized box, filled with the monthly allowances that the king was obligated to give him. It was the bare minimum of what was considered standard for a prince. He grabs a small pouch. The golden and silver coins clink together as they tumble from the wooden box and into the small leather bag. 

George ties it shut, dumping the valuable bag into his satchel. Digging through the palace’s kitchen provides him with a few pieces of bread. He wraps those in a clean cloth and shoves them in his bag. After running through a list in his head, he decides that he’s ready. 

Waiting for nighttime seems like an eternity. He spends the last of his time at the palace strolling the lush gardens, a part of him mourning the loss of his rich life and the other not going to miss the stuffy clothes and prim mannerisms. He was excited….and scared. The library—much to his annoyance—did not contain any books on survival. Despite it’s vast variety of novels, a majority of them were on the history of the neighboring countries or about politics. Books about politics weren’t something that would be useful when he was wandering around in the wilderness or being chased by road bandits.

_It’s okay,_ he tells himself optimistically, _you’ll figure things out. You’ve always been a fast learner._

For some reason, he didn’t really believe himself.

——

Night appears after what feels like years of waiting. George retreats to his bedroom after dinner, careful not to arouse suspicion. His brother takes this as a sign of resignation and watches with a pompous smirk plastered on his insufferable face.

George feels a tinge of satisfaction in knowing that next morning, the king will have awoken to the news that the prince had disappeared. It’s painfully boring, waiting for the guards to retire to their rooms for the night. Eventually though, his patience pays off and soon the grand hallways are empty and dark. 

He sneaks through the dark gardens quietly, making as little noise as possible. It’s only when he makes it to the palace gates does he let out a sigh of relief. The polished metal makes no noise as he creaks it open. He takes a few steps forward, looking back to carefully close the gate with a soft clang.

Freedom.

George has to suppress the urge to laugh in happiness. A beaming smile stretches across his tired face as he turns to face the bright city. People stroll through the streets still, laughing and giggling from a night of drinking and fun. He watches them as they mess around, playfully punching and joking.

A cool breeze brushing against his pale skin snaps him out of his trance. George takes a deep breath, beginning to walk down the streets slowly. An inn wasn’t hard to find, the city surrounding the palace was one of the largest and most wealthy. Yellow light pours out from the windows, brightening the dark street with its heaven-like glow.

The brunette opens the door carefully, peeking in almost shyly into the building. The young man at the front desk looks bored—he probably wished to be asleep just as much as George did. George strides forward, leaning over the counter to peer at the paper containing various different scrawls of writing.

“How much for a room?” He asks, placing the pouch of coins down. The young man eyes the pouch. He shifts uncomfortably as his scrutinizing gaze runs over the clothes that looked far too expensive to be for a normal person. 

Eventually, he says, “Five silver pieces per night.” 

George nods, accepting the price as he had no idea what was expensive and what wasn’t. The lack of weight from the leather bag is barely noticeable compared to the sheer amount of coins in it.

The room key is slid across the counter and George writes his name down on the wrinkled paper in his neat, prince-like handwriting. 

“Room 4. Breakfast is free, enjoy your stay.” The inn worker says drolly. George takes the key carefully. It’s weight is barely noticeable as he drifts to the staircase that led to the rooms. It was old, and every step he took made the wood groan in protest. 

Nonetheless, he makes it up to the decent looking door. Sliding his key into it doesn’t take much effort, and he steps into a decent room. There’s a queen size bed in the middle, with two tables placed on either side of it. A soft carpet is laid out on the floor, the scarlet red standing out against the blandness of the room.

George sets his bag down next to the bed, flopping down. It wasn’t anywhere near as soft and rich as his room at the castle, but it wasn’t bad. He buries his face into the pillow with a sigh of relief. Finally, he was free from the constraints of royal life—for now, at least. If everything went smoothly he’d be out of the capital city by tomorrow.

The brunette feels his eyes begin to droop from tiredness. He snuggled into the sheets as black began to creep around the edges of his vision. Freedom was his at last.

Tomorrow will be a busy day.

—

He wakes up to loud shouts and running footsteps outside. Bright sunlight streams through his window, making him squint and blink rapidly to adjust to the harsh lighting.

George groans, sitting up and running a hand through his disheveled hair. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Right, today is the day. 

Breakfast at the inn consists of eggs, bacon, and a piece of bread. It’s surprisingly bland compared to the rich food he ate at the palace, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it so much.

With his stomach full of warm food and his mind set on his adventure, he bids the man at the desk goodbye and heads out. The streets are clean and filled with people making their daily routines. Children play around outside and shopkeepers restock their shelves. It’s a peaceful, nice day much unlike the morning bustle of servants running around or people arriving with complaints and requests. George almost walks by a shop, but stops when his eyes catch onto the vibrant arrangement of cloaks they had displayed in the window. 

The bell rings gently when he opens the door, peeking his head inside curiously. The shop owner, a middle aged looking woman, calls out a welcome. He returns the greeting softly, almost startled at the friendliness she was showing.

“What’re you looking for, sir?” She inquires cheerfully. The woman gestures around the shop, “We have a variety of different traveling cloaks and equipment!”

“Um,” the brunette looks around. His eyes land on a dark, midnight blue cloak that hangs from one of the wood mannequins. It stood out against the dull colors that his color blindness constrained him to. George points to it hesitantly, “how much is that one?”

She claps her hand together with a gasp, “Good choice!” He follows after he as she takes the cloak off of its stand, holding it up. “Batiste fabric on the outside, merino wool lining the inside. It’s guaranteed to keep you warm while also being easy to maneuver in and light. You have good taste!”

George blinks, his mind slowly processing the information. It takes him a few moments before he catches on and nods, digging into his satchel to find the pouch of money he had, “How much?”

“Two silver,” she chirps. The woman looks him over with a scrutinizing grey gaze, “you sure you got the right traveling clothes there?”

“Ah—uh,” He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, run away from a rich family. So..probably not.” _Well, it’s not exactly a lie..._

She whistles in awe, tucking the cloak over her arm as she tugged him over to another section. “You might want to change your clothing, there’s a lot of bandits hiding out on the roads nowadays. Formal wear isn’t exactly…” she trails off, looking for the right words to say, “...useful when you’re running away from thieves or defending yourself against wild animals and such.”

George doesn’t know what it is, but something about the way she looked and the genuine concern that laced her voice told him that she was trustworthy. And so he nods, following her advice and picking out new clothes. It doesn’t take a lot of time, he mainly went with her advice and tried on the clothes. Eventually he finds himself standing at the counter to pay.

“Let’s see, that’ll be...four gold!” She says cheerfully after scanning over all of the items. George raises an eyebrow at the variety of different things ranging from boots to shirts and belts. 

“Only four?” He asks curiously, “I thought it would’ve been..more?”

The shop owner smiles kindly, taking the four gold coins he hesitatingly slides across the wooden counter. 

“I give discounts to new travelers,” she explains, pocketing the money and pushing his items back towards him, “it’s always so much fun helping new adventurers start their travels! You can use the changing room to the side, if you want.”

“Oh—um, thanks..” The brunette feels a smile warm his cheeks, “By the way, what city would be the best to go to?”

She smiles back, “Personally, I’d say Eclerton. It has a lot of good things for new travelers, and it’s not too far from here unlike others like Blummond and Lenta. You could probably catch a merchant cart there.”

“Okay,” he nods as he stores away the information, “Eclerton. Got it. Thank you for all your help, Miss.” 

She beams, “Of course! I wish you luck on your travels! Come back and visit again sometime, okay darling?”

George suppresses a laugh. If he could help it, he would never come back here. But the lady’s kindness is endearing and sweet, so he simply nods and smiles. After a quick trip to the changing room, he makes his way out of the store. The cloak he had purchased reached just below his knees, and it was light. The cloak coupled with the simple grey tunic and his oak brown, belted trousers made him feel like more of a traveler than a prince. He liked it. 

George sets off through the streets, heading for the walls of the city. It’s boring, really—but he keeps his hood up to cover his face and no one bothers him. Not even the knights running by shouting about the missing prince. It’s not long before he arrives at the gates and steps out onto the worn dirt road. The brunette takes a deep breath, looking back at his city—his old life as a prince—and doesn’t regret a thing.

He steps onto the road, and finally his days as a traveler can begin.


	2. finding

Earlier in the week, when Sapnap had asked to go to Eclerton for some new spell books, Dream hadn’t realized it would be this much trouble. 

On the way, they had been interrupted by having to fight five giant spiders, two of the hideous creatures called Endermen, one group of road bandits, and have been stopped by a group of knights asking if they had seen some runaway prince.

This week was really not going great.

Sapnap hums a song as they trudge along. The sun has risen high in the sky, the morning long since passed. Dream nearly sighs in relief as he catches sight of the town walls. The fire mage next to him lets out a whoop of victory, wincing in pain as he stretches his sore arm. The swordsman next to him glances over, though he knew Sapnap couldn’t tell through his mask. 

“Finally made it.” He comments, “I hope your spell books are gonna be pretty damn incredible.”

“Oh, piss off.” Sapnap retorts, though there is no bite behind the rude words. “Don’t blame me, it’s not like I knew that there was gonna be so much to deal with.”

“Whatever, it’s still your fault for dragging us here.” He snarks. The black haired mage rolls his eyes, raising his staff threateningly.

“I will whack you.”

“Try it.”

“...”

“...”

“...Anyway, we’re here.” Sapnap clears his throat. “I don’t actually know where the store is. So I figured we could stay the night before picking up the books and grabbing a few jobs.”

Dream shrugs indifferently, “Sure,” he says. “We have enough to spare. I’ll go grab us a room at the nearest inn, while you can grab your books?”

“Sounds good.” The magic user clicks his tongue as they step onto the cobbled pathways that weave throughout the town. They fall into another one of their easy, companionable silences. Dream ignores the few weird looks he gets—his mask always did attract a few stares—and points to a tavern. A sign with a picture of a wyvern curled in a circle is placed above the door. 

“Let’s meet there.” He suggests. Sapnap gives an absentminded nod, already scanning the nearby buildings for the spell shop he was searching for. Dream pats his shorter traveling companion on the back before breaking off and wandering down another street. 

It was common knowledge that Eclerton was a rich town—the steady stream of young adventurers spending their money on everything they could see made it so. The town showed off their wealth in the form of clean streets and well-kept buildings. It doesn’t take too long before he spots a small, though nice looking hostel. The woman at the desk stares at him strangely—this was nothing new. He, with his smiling white mask and forest green cloak that reached only down to his waist, looked nothing like a normal traveler.

He sets his bag of coins down on the counter, “How much for two bedroom?” The swordsman ignores the way she blatantly tries to keep from staring. 

“Um, twelve silver per night.” She stammers, pulling out the sheet of paper, “How many nights will that be?” 

“Just one.” 

She slides the key across the table, taking the bundle of coins he gives her in return. Dream closes the money bag, strapping it back to its place on his belt. 

The room is of nice quality, as expected from a wealthy town. He sets his small, almost duffel-like bag down on the bed before leaving the tidy building. The streets are strangely peaceful, filled only with the occasional scream of playing children. Dream strolls through, glancing through the shop windows and exploring the town. He had been here before, but that was a long while ago. Dream wanders for a long while, lost in his thoughts. The sun rises and rises, then falls as the day wears on. 

By the time he decides to go to the tavern, the sun is just barely peeking over the horizon. Orange and pink light is splashed across the sky, a result of the sun bidding its last goodbyes before allowing the moon to light up the world in its place.

Dream opens the door to the building, not surprised by the amount of people that filled up the tables. It was getting late after all, and any place that sold alcohol tended to be busy with parties of people celebrating something. 

It’s loud, but he doesn’t really mind as he takes a seat at one of the corner tables. A waitress comes out soon after and he asks for nothing but water. She looks at him a bit weirdly—as most did—but plods off to go get him his drink. Dream watches the activities of the tavern boredly, his eyes wandering very briefly on a few interesting figures before moving on. 

Sapnap was taking an unexpectedly long time. 

Knowing the fire mage, he probably had gotten lost or distracted. Nothing new. Even though he came from a notoriously powerful family of magic users, Sapnap never quite lived up to the expectations of his strict family. But Dream still admires him all the same. His lack of skill in the magic department just served to make him a hardworking, honest traveling companion and the blond found himself appreciating those qualities more often than not.

He is pulled out of his absent minded thoughts when there is a cluster of shouts, followed by the squeak of three chairs sliding across the wooden floorboards. He looks up in time to see a cloaked figure hastily making their way out of the building. Following closely are a group of three people—two men and one woman.

Something inside him says that whoever was under the cloak wasn’t exactly the one who had caused the commotion. Many heads had turned from the loud noises, but they had resumed their conversations shortly after. Unsurprising. People never really did care for others. 

Dream debates going after them. Even though his moral compass might be just a little messed up, he was never really a fan of letting some poor soul get ganged up on. It just wasn’t right.

Eventually, he stands. The waitress is just barely returning with his glass of water, so he tells her that he’ll be back and she just nods with a shrug. The evening had long since passed. The night air is cool, the clean streets lit by the white glow of the moon. Dream looks around. He had no idea which way they had gone, so he settled for simply wandering in a random direction. 

Fortunately, luck is on his side today. He hadn’t been walking long before his sharp hearing picked up the faint sound of heavy breaths and whispered threats. There is a loud crash, followed by a hiss of pain. 

Dream begins to jog towards the noise. There’s a voice progressively getting louder as he nears. It’s feminine, and holds a hint of victory to it.

“You thought you could get away?” It sneers. The swordsman peeks around the corner warily, seeing the figure belonging to the voice. Her two male companions are holding the smaller figure by his arms. The hood is pulled back, revealing a soft—almost boyish, in a way—face. Blood trickles from a nasty slice on his cheek. Dream pulls his head away, pressing his back against the cold brick walls as he listens to the conversation.

One of the men speaks, “How much d’ya think we’ll get for bringing him back?”

Another voice, this must be the other guy, “Didn’t you see the flyers? Three thousand gold pieces. We’ll be set for life!” 

“Oh, shut up! I’m the one who recognized him. You two idiots would never have caught him without me.”

Flyers? Was he some sort of missing noble’s kid or something? The gears in his mind are turning rapidly. Dream figured that he could take on all of them—Sapnap would confirm that he was no pushover—and maybe he could get some money in exchange. It certainly wouldn’t hurt. 

_ Stop thinking and just go save the damn guy already,  _ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Sapnap snaps in his head. Dream takes a deep breath, one hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. The sound of the weapon being drawn causes the trio to freeze. 

“What was that sound?” One of the guys asks. Dream keeps still.

“Probably just the wind,” the woman assures nervously. Her voice is tinged with worry, betraying the false confidence her words held, “Just hurry up and finish tying him up.”

Dream inhales once more, stepping out into the opening of the alleyway. They don’t react at first, their backs turned to their captive. 

He taps his sword on the ground. The sound of metal on stone fills the air. “This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.”

All three of them turn around. The woman looks angry at first—but when her eyes drop to his sharp blade she completely switches tactics.

“Look, haven’t you heard?” She shifts nervously, “They’re offering a reward for the return of the prince.” 

Dream tilts his head curiously. His gaze flickers to the ‘prince’ on the ground. He didn’t usually bother to remember the royals, as the information was never much use to him. “Is that so?”

“Yeah!” The lady nods vehemently, “We’ll even split it with you, if you want to help us. 3,000 gold pieces!”

The swordsman pretends to ponder it, his fingers tapping on the hilt of his weapon slowly. The woman glances at her partners, probably hoping for him to agree or at the very least leave them alone.

“I don’t really care for money,” He shrugs, “but I don’t appreciate unfair fights. Prince and reward or not.”

One of the men looks at the woman. She shakes her head, and they let go of the supposed prince. He lays curled up on the floor with his hands and ankles bonded by thick rope. 

“Scram, before I have to use my sword.” He drawls, and they push past him and out of the alleyway. He can hear them down the street, muttering curses and ill wishes under their breaths.

The prince looks up at him, brown eyes wide in apprehension and fear. Dream sighs, sliding his sword back into the sheath on his back before crouching down next to him. They sit there, looking at each other in silence.

The prince speaks first, “Thanks for saving me.”

He shrugs, “Maybe I’ll just take the reward for myself.” Despite his words, he pulls out a dagger and swiftly slices the bindings. The other man sighs in relief, bringing his wrists to his front and rubbing them. The rough rope had made faint indents on his pale skin. 

“I don’t think you will.” He says simply. 

Dream peers at him curiously. “Why is that?”

“You just don’t seem like that kind of person.” He shrugs, “And you wouldn’t have undone my ties if you did. Common sense.”

_ He’s snarky.  _ Dream chuckles, putting the small blade away. “What’s your name?”

The brunette raises an eyebrow at him, “You don’t know?”

The blond shrugs, “I don’t care for royalty all that much.” He explains. The other smiles at this.

“George.” The brunette—now known as George—offers a hand out. Dream is glad for his mask again, because it hides the small smile that spreads across his face. 

He takes the other’s soft, warm hand, “Dream.” He says simply. “Do you want to get a drink?”

George smiles at that. This time Dream can’t help the way his cheeks grow warm.  _ He has a nice smile,  _ he thinks as he pulls the prince to his feet. The logical side of his brain was saying he should just let the guy go instead of inviting him for a drink. Alarm bells were ringing loud in his head. Not because he thought the boy was dangerous—with that soft voice and creamy skin? No, never—but because as much as he knew he should pull away his fingers still lingered on the smooth warmness of the brunette’s palm.

George doesn’t say anything, so Dream coughs awkwardly and draws his hand away. He turns away, almost forgetting that his white mask hid the pink dusting across his cheeks. 

“Well, um, lets go?” He suggests. George nods and the swordsman doesn’t miss the red that tints the other boy’s face. 

_ Fuck, that’s cute. _

——

In all the years Sapnap has grown up with Dream, there have only been a few occasions when he’s heard him laugh without restraint. 

And yet here this supposed prince was, making the blond buckle over in laughter despite having just met him. 

He sets his spell books down on the wooden table. Dream’s green hooded head turns towards him, “Took you long enough.” 

Sapnap grumbles, “I got lost.” His orange orbs move to examine the brunette, “New friend?” 

“Saved him from a group of kidnappers.” The green cloaked swordsman replies easily. The fire mage nods thoughtfully. George waves, offering a soft hello. Sapnap scrutinizes him. There’s something that’s far too clean, too prim and proper about this new man.

Dream looks at him. Even behind the beady black eyes of his mask, he can sense the warning in his stare. The mage shrugs, and his friend makes a motion to sit down. He does so, taking the cup of water that the brunette offers him.

“I’m George.” He says. Sapnap smiles politely at him.

“Sapnap.” The black haired man returns the greeting. “So how’d you meet my buddy Dream here?”

George looks at the green cloaked man for a brief moment before turning back. “Kidnappers.” He repeats, shrugging, “I guess I’m kind of ‘wanted’ now.” 

“Ah, well, that’s okay.” The other seems a bit taken aback by his casualness. Dream watches the interaction with varying degrees of interest. “So are you traveling with us now?”

“Um,” George looks at the blond nervously, “I-I suppose. If you don’t mind that is.” 

Through the crack between his mask and hood, Sapnap sees the corners of Dream’s lips curl into a smile. 

——

Dream watches blankly as the last man runs off bleeding. A large gash is sliced into his back from his weapon. The swordsman turns to Sapnap, who has sent his ones off with seared skin and purple bruises. 

George sits on the ground, nursing a bruised wrist and a nasty slice on his upper arm. Dream approaches the dark haired man, crouching down. He digs into his traveling pack, pulling out some clean bandages and a water skin.

The prince allows him to take his bleeding arm, blushing at the way the other’s fingers gently caressed his skin. Sapnap comes over, his staff in hand. He peers down at George, “Is he okay?”

“I’m fine,” George reassures. He sucks in a breath when the masked swordsman gently dabs the wound with a damp cloth. The blood smears across his pale skin. 

Sapnap keeps a lookout. His orange eyes roam the tree line. Any more of them that attempted to fight wouldn’t escape the searing hot flames of his fireball. 

Dream works in silence, treating the injury carefully and as gently as possible. The white bandage wrapped around the prince’s arm would be hidden by his cloak. George mutters thanks and gets to his feet. 

“Sorry.” He says—as he always did when they got attacked, “They were after me again.”

“Not your fault.” The other two chorus automatically. After a moment of consideration, Dream reaches down to his boot. He pulls out a sheathed dagger and holds it out to the brunette, “Here.”

“I don’t know how to use this.” George says blankly, staring at it. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not necessarily the reason why he didn’t want it. In truth, the thought of stabbing another human being with his own hands was sickening. It was different when Sapnap and Dream did it, that wasn’t him. He was a bystander. Even if it was to defend himself, George can’t help the bile that threatens to rise up in his throat at the thought.

Dream stands firm, “You need to learn how to protect yourself.” 

Sapnap calls over his shoulder, “He’s right, you know. Something may happen when we aren’t here and then boom, you’ll be stuck in those princely clothes and married to some pompous princess.” 

Needless to say, he takes the weapon with trembling hands.

——

Dream’s chest presses into his back. George takes a deep breath, tightening his grip on the sword in his hands. He tries to ignore the way he could feel the other’s breaths brushing past the skin of his neck, or the way that his rough hand curls around his.

“Slice,” he says, moving their arms to model the motion, “and parry.” 

Sapnap watches on the sidelines, sitting under a tree as he leafed through one of his books. Sword training with Dream had always been rather uninteresting. Ever since the swordsman had given him a dagger, he had been steadily teaching him to defend himself. George likes to think that despite his lack of skill in the sword department, he was getting pretty good with the bow. It made him proud because a few months ago, he could barely notch an arrow. Now he could hit a bullseye 6 times out of 10. 

Dream nudges him, “Pay attention.” He says. George mumbles out an apology. The sword is heavy in his hand.

His trainer begins again, “Alright, when someone comes running at you, you should slide into a defensive stance.” He moves him, bringing the brunette’s feet back and lowering the sword so that it was held in front of his middle. “People will always try and slice the body, because that’s the biggest place and you have more chance of hitting something vital. You want to defend by attacking.” 

George nods, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He didn’t really understand how Dream could be so good with the sword—just listening to the green swordsman explain made his head spin in confusion. 

_ Dream is good at a lot of things.  _ He adds on to his thoughts.  _ Unsurprising.  _

Dream steps back to examine George’s pose. His sharp green eyes rake over his figure. George resists the urge to shift uncomfortably. He feels exposed under Dream’s gaze, like the man could read all his thoughts and feelings. Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t really far off from the truth. Dream always seems to know what he was feeling and when something was wrong. Maybe he could read minds after all.

Sapnap looks up from his spell book, tucking it under his arm as he moves to stand. His voice, rings out across the clearing, “Are we gonna go? We still have to get those spider eyes.”

Dream takes the sword from George’s hands, sliding it into its sheath with a short nod. The mask is pulled back over his face, as well as the forest green hood. George adjusts his goggles. They had been a gift from Dream after he had marveled over them through a shop window. Even though the swordsman had insisted it was because it would make him less recognizable when in towns, George had a feeling that it wasn’t the only reason.

The thought makes him smile. 

The cover of the trees makes the forest seem dark and intimidating. Little dots of light are scattered across the floor from the cracks in the thick foliage. Sapnap hums a tune, a cheerful one that George doesn’t recognize. He listens along absentmindedly. 

Finding spiders was always a tedious task. Despite their gargantuan size, they always hid during the day. The dense forest provided additional cover for the giant arachnids. Which made their task all the more difficult. Spider eyes were always a pain to get, but the rewards more than made up for the tedious work.

Dream halts, holding a hand up as a signal for them to stop. George does so, straining to peer over the taller man’s shoulders. He sees first the hairy black leg of the disgusting creature, and then its plump body and beady red eyes. The monster is clutching on to a tree, resting in the shade and waiting for night to come. Sapnap makes a quiet sound of disgust. 

The swordsman in front of him whispers quietly, “George, use your bow.” 

He notches an arrow quickly. Once he could get it’s attention it would attack, and knowing spiders there were probably more around. This would be easy. 

George aims carefully. He takes a deep breath, taking his time. The arrow flies straight into the arachnid’s leg. It hisses and whirls around, skittering down the tall tree in an unnerving manner. 

As he had predicted, more of the monster came crashing through the undergrowth. The spit from their hisses flew everywhere, venom dripping from the deadly fangs in their mouth. Dream pulls out his sword, immediately slashing at the first one that jumps at him. Its body, now split in half, falls to the ground with a quiet thud. 

George backs up, letting Sapnap move forward to launch one of his spells at the aggressive spiders. Another arrow is drawn from the quiver strapped to his back. He sends projectile after projectile into the monster’s black flesh. Monster blood splatters across the ground. The brunette watches Dream kick one in the face, sending it flying into a tree. 

Seeing the action reminds him of his brother, and how horrified he would be if he found out what George had become. The squeamish, obedient prince had long since died. In his place was someone who adventured and killed monsters—someone who retrieved  _ spider eyes _ in exchange for gold. A few months ago, if someone had told George then that in the near future he’d be hunting giant arachnids and digging out their eyes, he would’ve chuckled and dismissed it as a simple joke. But now here he was, fighting monsters with his two best friends and trying not to die every step of the way.

Strangely, he didn’t mind at all.

**Author's Note:**

> haha writing go brrrr


End file.
